


happens great, happens sweet

by childoffantasy



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Aftercare, Body Worship, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Dominant Triss Merigold, Eskel is Vesemir's heir, Established Relationship, F/M, Kissing, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Service Sub Eskel, Show!Triss, Soft Domme Triss, Sub Eskel (The Witcher), Subdrop, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:20:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26210269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childoffantasy/pseuds/childoffantasy
Summary: “Is everything alright?” His eyes are wide with concern and Triss reaches up. She places her fingers gently under his chin but grasps firmly enough to force his attention onto her.“All is well, Eskel. Come now, you can have a break,” Her tone is comforting but carries an iron core that says it wasn’t a suggestion no matter the phrasing.Eskel carries as much of the weight of maintaining Kaer Morhen and its inhabitants as he can, but like all people he needs a space to rest and lay down his burdens. Triss can hold that space for him for a while, and hold him too.
Relationships: Eskel/Triss Merigold
Comments: 23
Kudos: 52





	happens great, happens sweet

**Author's Note:**

> In the original idea I debated doing non-sexual D/s but I thought about it and decided "no, Triss deserves to get eaten out and we all know Eskel is a giver in bed" and now almost 8k later here we are. In my traditional fashion, this is Show!Triss and whatever Eskel takes your fancy.
> 
> Title taken from Hozier's Wasteland, Baby!

Eskel has never been good at asking for this, and he gets even less likely to ask when he needs it the most. Triss knows it’s been a rough season, though, the snows hit early and hard up north, meaning both a difficult trek up to Kaer Morhen for most of the wolf Witchers as well as more damage than usual to repair once they made it to the keep.

Triss has been involved with Eskel for a good long time by now, she has an idea what directions his thoughts are spiralling in now, he’ll be worrying about hard winter meaning a leaner season, and about how best to wait out the long dark nights in the mountains without anyone killing each other. He takes his informal role as Vesemir’s second so seriously that sometimes he ties himself into knots, and Triss chuckles to herself a little as she tacks on “but not the fun kind of knots” to that train of thought.

All jokes aside, Eskel has made himself scarce in his worry, and anytime Triss has seen him she’s catalogued a whole list of signs that he’s stressed and needs a break, even if he won’t give it to himself. So it is that Triss is making a methodical sweep of Eskel’s most common haunts. Most of the rest of the inhabitants of the keep are keeping to themselves, unpacking and settling in, sleeping off the harshness of the Trail or soaking out the aches in the baths. There is time now to take a little peace before the work of winter must begin.

As luck would have it, Triss finds Eskel alone in the library, bent over what looks like a supply list, but he starts to his feet when he hears her approach, wound tighter than a spring. His hands flex and flutter, reaching for something he can’t quite find as Triss steps into his space.

“Is everything alright?” His eyes are wide with concern and Triss reaches up. She places her fingers gently under his chin but grasps firmly enough to force his attention onto her.

“All is well, Eskel. Come now, you can have a break,” Her tone is comforting but carries an iron core that says it wasn’t a suggestion no matter the phrasing.

For a split second he looks ready to argue, and his hands come up like he wants to place them on her elbow and waist before dropping back down. His shoulders drop an inch or so away from where they are perilously close to his ears. He can’t nod without dislodging her grip on his chin, he has to summon words for her.

“As you wish.”

“Thank you, my dear. Give me your arm, now, escort me upstairs.”

Ever-gracious, Eskel bows to her without any edge of mockery, and lets her tuck a hand in the crook of his strong arm. As she leads them up to her bedroom, Triss lets herself entertain an idle fantasy of Eskel allowing her to dress him up in fine silks and velvet and have him escort her to one or another of the many functions she is required to attend at court in Vizima. His manners are as fine as any courtier she’s ever met, and the advantages to a dinner partner who has no political agenda are numerous.

Sure enough, they encounter no one else on their way up to Triss’ tower room, the silence comfortable between them. Triss suspects that Eskel is still picking over the responsibilities he carries while they walk, but he is with her now, letting her lead him, and it will be no hardship to take all the time he needs to lay down the weight he bears on broad shoulders.

When they reach Triss’ door Eskel’s attention seems to be primarily on her, which is gratifying despite its familiarity. This is not a new thing to them, but even now when Eskel really looks at her with all his focus she sometimes gets tingles almost as strong as the ones sparked by his skin. She unlocks the door and ushers him inside, locking the door again behind them (Triss learned to enforce her privacy in Kaer Morhen when Ciri was young) then turning to survey the room and Eskel in it. He stands where Triss left him when she let go of his arm to get the latch, and Triss looks him up and down which prompts him to shift a bit under her scrutiny.

No point keeping him in suspense when he’s already wound up and the point is to get him to relax some. Triss holds up an arm and gestures imperiously at him.

“Come here, Eskel. Unlace me.” He pads toward her immediately, like her words unglued him from his place on the floor. When he reaches her, before she lets him begin to unwind her shawls, she reaches up to take hold of his chin again. He stops obediently, and she smiles happily up at him until his face softens in return, not quite a smile, but still pleased. She misses this when they go a while without, Eskel is so delightfully sweet and gentle with her, and it’s such a relief to have someone in her life she can make requests of and expect to be obeyed without having to spend an hour arguing or negotiation.

When Triss releases him, Eskel blinks slowly at her, like a large cat, and reaches out to begin removing her layers. He knows the trunk where she likes him to leave her clothing without needing to be told, and she can see him running his hands over the fine wool of her shawl as he folds it neatly. Next is her surcote, fur-lined and sideless, allowing her access to her various accoutrements hung from her belt as well as giving a fashionable glimpse of the material and cut of her kirtle beneath.

Triss finds there is a certain decadence in having someone else undress her. The frequently awkward shuffle to get a hold of a gown with enough leverage to get it over her head while not smudging makeup or mussing hairdos is absent with a lover as conscientious as Eskel. He kneels gracefully before her, rucking the skirts of her surcote up over his arms as he rises, pauses to let her tuck her arms in, and uses the breadth of his hands to hold the neckline of the garment wide enough to pass smoothly over her head. His height is a great advantage here, he has no trouble lifting the trailing skirts clear before moving to the side and letting the thing fall free again. Again, with the ease of familiarity Eskel drapes the cote smoothly over the rack beside her wardrobe.

“Well done, my dear, you remembered how I like things,” Triss says when he turns back towards her and barely resists clapping in delight when his measured stride stumbles at the praise. He doesn’t duck his head to hide the pink dusting his cheeks but it’s a near thing and Triss feels fondness swelling in her chest full enough to take her breath away. Eskel is _so_ eager to please and praise works for him in a bone deep way that is delightful to see, so Triss is happy to give it to him.

A thought strikes her then. “Eskel, I believe I have neglected something.” His head cocks a little to the side in question. “I haven’t asked for a kiss yet. That first, then I’ll let you get to my laces.”

“As you wish,” he says, none of the internal argument from the last time he said it in evidence. Instead a smile is flirting at the corners of his mouth, lighting up his face. He looks far more relaxed already, Triss notes, his worry gradually being replaced with some small joys at completing tasks to her satisfaction and making himself concretely helpful.

Eskel steps right in next to her and slides his hands around her waist to hold her to him. This is also a good sign, the same instinct that makes him not seek her out when he most needs to take some time away also keeps him from being tactile the way he desperately wants to be. But now, despite being nearly a foot taller than she is, Eskel still manages to give the impression of looking up from under his eyelashes. Bringing her hand up, Triss grasps his chin briefly, to make sure he’s paying attention to what she wants, then places her fingers underneath to guide his face down to hers by letting him follow to keep the skin contact.

His mouth against hers is warm, his lips chapped from the dry mountain air and the elements on the road, and he is well experienced in the things she enjoys while being kissed. Triss keeps her hand cupped under Eskel’s chin to show him where she wants him, but he hardly needs the guidance. As he gets more into it, he tugs her closer so she is pressed thrillingly against his firm chest and his strong arms brace her back comfortably. Triss moves her free arm out from where it is pressed between their bodies, and reaches up to drape around Eskel’s neck, twining her fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

In this bedroom with the two of them, things like time don’t have to matter, so the only reason Triss breaks their leisurely kiss is because her neck is starting to get sore from craning to meet his height. Sometime she will lie him down and let him kiss her for at least an hour, but not tonight. Eskel tries to chase her mouth as she comes down from her tiptoes but she chuckles softly and doesn’t let him.

“No, my dear, I want you to get my laces now.” Despite her words, Triss gives him one more quick kiss on the scarred side of his mouth because the small pout he is making is too sweet to resist. Moving her arms out of his way as Eskel steps back to see what he’s doing, Triss examines his face. When she first found him earlier in the evening he had been carrying tension in his jaw and frown lines in his brow, but those have mostly faded. She can see in his eyes that the parts of his mind that had been ticking through worries are much quieter now, and he is intent on the task she has given him.

Triss huffs a small laugh when Eskel tugs loose the free end of the lace fastening her dress. She usually tucks it down the front of her neckline, and it always tickles just a little more to have someone else pull the cord past skin. Not to mention the extra sensitivity from Eskel’s sheer proximity. He has the strongest magic of any Witcher she knows, even accounting for Vesemir’s extra centuries of age, and Triss has become attuned to the feel of Eskel’s magic enough that she is beginning to be able to feel the vibration from it even without skin contact. All told, however, she believes Eskel’s touch would be thrilling even without magical intervention, and she anticipates it eagerly.

Eskel isn’t careless in undoing the spiral lacing of her kirtle, he doesn’t allow the cord to fly loose where it could hit her, and he doesn’t rush. He has the patience to draw out activities like this, to deny himself the pleasure of seeing Triss naked in favour of being careful and thorough with her requests and the pleasure she will ask of him later. She does notice his breathing has become deep in the way that suggests to her trained eye that he is breathing in the scent of her that has become stronger under the linen and wool of her gown over the course of the day.

As Eskel works his way down the front of her dress, he is very good about keeping his hands to himself, not touching where Triss hasn’t told him he may. Between the subtle scenting he’s doing and the way his eyes haven’t made it above her collarbones since he started, however, Triss can suss out what he would like to do next. She sees no reason to deny him, either, she likes having her breasts played with and it makes Eskel so happy to give her any pleasure at all, but she knows he likes tits better than just about anything else. When he gets her kirtle all the way undone and helps her step out of it, leaving Triss in just her shift and stockings she gives him his next instruction.

“Once you have that put away come back here and I’ll put you where I want you.”

“As you wish,” Eskel replies, voice soft and deep, carrying no strain.

He returns to stand in front of her and Triss takes his hands in hers. She brings him with her as she sits on her chair, and with a small tug and a nod she gets him to settle on his knees on the fine rug she keeps there. It’s strategically placed, the thick material means he can stay there comfortably for a long time, which is exactly what she intends. With Eskel kneeling on the floor and Triss sitting on the well cushioned chair, they are nearly of a height, and Triss leans forward to grasp his chin once again. She takes a moment to give him a long, slow, burning kiss, and then brings his face forward to where her cleavage is exposed by the low neckline of her underdress.

The eagerness with which Eskel dives in to press his face against her skin is gratifying. His hands settle into the curves where her waist begins to become her hips, a feature he’s made clear he adores over the years, and he practically buries himself in Triss’ breasts. His beard doesn’t grow terribly fast, so there’s almost no stubble to irritate her skin or to stand in his way as he rubs his cheeks against the soft skin, and in the process he manages to successfully nudge the material of her shift downwards so he can access more of her. The deep, scenting breaths Triss noted earlier become more pronounced so that Eskel is almost panting against her skin, the warm gusts sparking goosebumps and shivers that run down her spine delightfully. His eyes are closed, the better to smell and feel her against him.

Triss let go of Eskel’s chin the moment he came in contact with her chest, and now she moves her hands to first adjust her shift further so her breasts are totally exposed to his touch, and then to curl around Eskel’s neck, where she can play gently with his hair. He doesn’t move very far or very fast, shifting only slightly to feel the soft brush of skin on skin, or to nuzzle in a way that takes his fancy. This is a treat for him that he wishes to appreciate to the fullest, and he knows Triss likes a slow build to her foreplay.

“Good, Eskel,” Triss murmurs to him. “Exactly what I wanted,” and to her delight the praise tips him over an invisible barrier and a deep purr begins rumbling out of his chest. It builds slowly, but soon enough becomes powerful enough that Triss can feel it in the places they touch, a lower-frequency counterpoint to the vibrations she feels from his skin.

A moment later Eskel begins mouthing at her, beginning to touch with the more sensitive skin of his lips and pressing small kisses wherever he can reach in the valley between her breasts, purring all the while. It starts as nothing more than a press of mouth to skin, but he soon begins to drop kisses more worthy of the name and move across a wider range of the skin bared before him. He avoids her nipples for now, he occupies himself instead with kissing every other inch of skin from her collarbones down to where the linen of her shift is tucked underneath her breasts.

The careful attention to detail he lavishes on Triss’ breasts have her flushing slowly warmer, and the fact that Eskel is obviously enjoying himself makes it unquestionably better. She can feel the smile on his lips where they touch her, as if the purring wasn’t a clue enough. She thinks, though, that he’s now focussed more on her pleasure than on his own, a suspicion which is proved when golden eyes blink open and look up at her with hazy delight at the same time he opens his mouth enough to let his teeth scrape gently across the skin close enough to her nipple that she can feel the brush of his skin against the peak.

Triss has been carefully keeping herself still except for where her fingers stroke at Eskel’s hair, not directing or rushing him. Despite her efforts, though, the mostly-incidental touch to her nipple when combined with the sharpness of his teeth has her chest heaving in a gasp she can’t quite stifle. Eskel’s eyes glow warmly at the reaction, and Triss knows he is about to step up his efforts in making her feel good. Her core tenses in anticipation.

Indeed, the soft touches of his mouth are now interspersed with little sucking kisses and gentle nips. It’s not enough to be painful or to leave a mark but Triss can feel the warmth of arousal growing in her belly. Eskel also stops avoiding her nipples quite so studiously. He isn’t devoting his attention to them yet, but he will brush small kisses on the rosy skin as he makes his way from one side of her chest to the other. Triss is sensitive there, and each touch sends small lightnings rocketing through her nerves.

Until now Triss had been able to ignore her arousal, but at this increased attention suddenly she finds the fire in her blood is heating faster than she anticipated, and Eskel doesn’t look at all inclined to give her time to calm down. From what she can see of his face, he appears to be blissed out, and she can hear the way his purr hasn’t slowed or quieted in the least. She knows primarily his delight is a result of getting to give her pleasure, it’s what he gets off on at least as much as he does from anything else. There’s no sense in holding back when the entire point of being with Eskel tonight was to let him relax and feel good about accomplishing something, so Triss allows herself to really feel his touch a little more. She lets herself clutch a little harder at Eskel when he begins to suck a small hickey, and she breathes harder and shifts to press herself closer to him when he finds a particularly sensitive spot.

Triss manages to forget she still has a chemise on until Eskel smooths his hands up her sides to cup her breasts, the feeling of thin linen shifting between her hips and his fingers summons Triss’ attention from where it was locked on Eskel’s worship of her tits. With some regret Triss draws him to a shuddering halt, though she knows they both could spend at least twice as long in that position as they had.

“Eskel, my dear, I want this chemise off, and I should like you to add another two logs to the fire before you help me up into my bed, strip, and join me there.” Triss unwinds her fingers from where they have been tugging at his soft hair and brings a hand down to stroke his jawline and chin briefly. Eskel is an attractive man, despite how he feels about his scars, his nose and jaw strong, his mouth full, and his eyes striking, but in Triss’ mind there is something singularly arresting about him when he is relaxed and peaceful like this. He truly has let go of the stress he started the evening with, and in it’s place is the simple, shining delight Eskel finds in servicing a lover.

When Triss releases Eskel’s face he settles back to sit on his heels, giving her space to stand. From his position on the floor he is in easy reach of the bottom hem of her underdress, and he takes as much care with removing the undergarment as he had with Triss’ fine outer layers. She watches as he folds the light linen and sets it aside where Triss can decide if it requires laundering later. As Eskel turns toward the fire to feed it, Triss is given the impression that he is fighting the urge to rush the tasks in order to get back to touching her as soon as possible. The thought brings an indulgent smile to her lips as he moves around her, and she makes no effort to hide when he casts sidelong looks at her now bare form.

The fire tended to, Eskel approaches to stand at Triss’ left elbow, offering his arm as courteously as if they were in a ballroom, not a bedroom. His eyes are glowing, no longer hazy with arousal and submission, he’s moved through those to simply being happy that she is happy. And she is, Eskel has followed her instructions to a T, her skin is fizzing pleasantly from his attentions to her breasts, and the night is not over yet. As requested, Eskel steadies Triss as she steps up the riser to her bed. His hands are right where she needs them to support her before she could possibly wobble, so the sometimes awkward scramble up the tall bedframe is turned to a graceful ascension, and Triss gets to feel elegant and powerful in a way few others manage to make her feel.

Even better, from her perch on the mattress, turned to face the room while her legs kick over the edge of the frame, Triss is given a fine show. Eskel truly is not dragging out the process of undressing, but given the number of layers he wears disrobing is a process nonetheless. Once his padded gambeson is out of the way Triss is afforded a fine view of how broad his shoulders really are. Under the undyed linen of his shirt she can track the shift and bunch of muscle in arms, back, and chest as he tugs at his shirt. As big as Eskel is, Triss thinks that even if he were a normal man, not mutated for Witcher strength, he might be able to pick her up without too much strain. The way things are, Eskel can toss her about effortlessly when she asks, and the curve of his muscles are a thrilling reminder of that.

Stripped to the waist, Eskel leans down to remove his boots and Triss squirms in enjoyment at the view of his backside this presents. There isn’t a part of Eskel not built for power, and even this early in the winter, fresh from the Path with its often scant rations, Eskel is thick in the thigh and strong in the calf, matching the breadth of his chest and waist.

Then Eskel stands straight again and undoes the drawstring on his trousers, shedding the last few items of clothing all at once, baring himself to Triss intent gaze. He gives the items a cursory shake and fold and turns to face Triss properly. His cock is thick and flushed with blood, Triss imagines Eskel can feel her eyes like a caress when she looks him up and down, lingering on his face, cock, and hands.

Triss beckons him to her by reaching an arm out and he crosses the space in two swift strides. Eskel stops politely before he collides with her, and she takes the hand he has half raised in her own, then tugs him forward to kiss him thoroughly. His mouth is sweet and yielding, kissing him is a treat. Triss only lets herself indulge in his mouth briefly, however, before she scoots herself backwards on the mattress to lie against a mound of pillows. Eskel follows her up onto the bedframe and prowls forward on hands and knees until he is close enough for her to sit up and grip his chin once again.

“You’ve been very good already for me tonight, Eskel,” He flushes at the praise, unable to duck away from her. “I will let you come if you like, but I want to come at least twice from your mouth.” Eskel shakes his head reflexively at Triss saying he can come, which doesn’t surprise her, though she’s happy enough either way, he has a short enough recovery period that even if he does come she will be able to have his cock later if she decides she wants it. However, he does so enjoy holding off until such a time as she wants him to come, so she can do that for him later.

When Triss lets go of Eskel’s chin and lies back against her pillows he reaches forward, still balanced on all fours to kiss her warmly, and lingers there a long moment which she savours. He then begins working his way down her body, kissing and licking all the places he knows she is most sensitive, nipping occasionally. All of this warms her blood so that by the time he crosses the previously untouched flesh of her belly and skirts her mound to kiss her thighs instead Triss is desperately fighting the urge to squirm.

Now that he is more or less in position, Eskel curls down so that he is sitting on his heels once again, his torso laid across his legs as he leans forward to mouth along the delicate skin of Triss inner thighs. His arms tuck around behind his back, the picture of submission. That lasts as long as it takes for Triss to twitch, trying to persuade him to put his mouth where she can feel herself dripping. In response Eskel brings his hands up to hold her legs still and continues working his way in ever-shrinking circles around her thighs and belly, centred on her cunt. In one sense being pinned like that is frustrating, Triss feels like she has been on a low fire for hours and finally she is beginning to boil over. On the other hand, years of experience with her means Eskel knows how much better the tease and slow build make the payoff for her, and he is patient and playful enough to ignore anything not a direct instruction in order to bring her to higher peaks.

Prevented from moving, Triss resorts to moans and hums to express her impatience. Eskel looks up to meet her eyes with the mischievous smile of a young man and teases her a moment longer, until Triss feels that the vibration from his skin will drive her mad with the way it heightens every sensation without giving her quite enough. And then, at long last, Eskel pulls his face back, smirks at the growl Triss gives, and opens his mouth to press a first searching lick to her slit.

The removal and then immediate return of the feel of Eskel’s mouth have Triss crying out in earnest. He doesn’t give her time to breathe after that, lapping up every drop of wetness she has produced so far and licking into her to search out more. In very short order Triss is shuddering, reaching to grasp at Eskel’s hair to ground herself as the tension in her core spirals tighter and tighter.

The long foreplay they engaged in means that when Eskel shifts the focus of his mouth from her lips to her clit Triss is swamped by pleasure in no time flat. Her legs strain against Eskel’s hold and her back arches off the bed when she comes, pleasure roaring in her veins, but not so loud that she can’t feel Eskel’s happy hum against her where he laps up the fluid of her orgasm, the gentle touch of his tongue and lips drawing the shivering comedown longer.

When Triss relaxes back down against her pillows, still panting, she summons enough breath to say, “That was one.”

Taking the reminder for what it is, Eskel dives between her thighs once again and sets right back to work with gusto. Triss is right at the point where oversensitivity blends back into heightening pleasure and Eskel is good at not paying too much attention to her clit before she is ready for it, so she lets herself relax back into the feeling. Where his hands are holding her still, Eskel is stroking gently over her skin, a fond gesture that makes Triss heart ache a little at how sweet he is by nature.

Looking down, Triss loses what breath she had managed to catch at his expression. Eskel looks like there is nowhere else in the world he would rather be than in this bed with her, making her feel good. Triss’ world is rapidly narrowing to nothing more than this room, these sheets and pillows, and his tongue, lips, and fingers on her body. Fortunately, she’s quite sure Eskel is caught in the here and now as much or more than she is. There is no space for worries between them now, only for gasped breaths, soft words, and warm skin.

This time Triss’ orgasm builds slower but hotter. She always finds the second goes deeper in a way, the first orgasm is frantic and takes the edge off, but the second one grows from slow waves of pleasure, building like a tide until Triss has only to let go to drown in it. She trembles violently all through it, and Eskel lets her move enough to buck against his face, using him just a little bit as she chases a few more seconds of the feeling.

When Triss opens her eyes again she sees Eskel’s are closed as he licks his lips, reminding her just a little bit of a cat who has recently been given a dish of cream. Looking over his shoulder, she can see him shifting his lower body subtly against the sheets underneath him. One of his legs is drawn up so he isn’t lying perfectly flat, and he rolls his hips back and forth, probably unconsciously. Eskel certainly hasn’t come yet, even though she said he could if he wished – he generally doesn’t wish to until she has had her fill.

“Come up here, Eskel,” Triss says and golden eyes open to meet hers. Holding his chin, she draws him up so he can pillow his head on her breasts. He interprets correctly that she needs a breather after that second orgasm, so he restrains himself to nuzzling only gently against her skin and putting his arms around her. Triss strokes his hair some more and squeezes his flanks with her thighs where he lies along her body.

“In a moment I would like your fingers and then I want to come on your cock. And I think you are going to come once I’ve had my third, that will be nice.”

Eskel presses his face even more firmly against her sweaty skin and mumbles, “As you wish.”

“I do wish,” Triss says agreeably, even more benevolent than normal after two orgasms and some determined affection from a happily purring Witcher.

She knows he is perfectly capable of forgetting to take his own pleasure in single-minded pursuit of his partner’s, and some days when he is in a truly bad state she has to work hard to convince him he deserves orgasms at least as much as she does, but he isn’t quite so bad as all that tonight, and she is confident he won’t require reminding now that the instruction has been given.

Much recovered, Triss nudges Eskel with her knee like she might a horse, then lets her legs fall open to give him space to work. Unsurprisingly, he brings himself further up her body to lie alongside her and press gentle kisses across her face and lips. He takes advantage of his long arms that allow him to press her into the pillows as he kisses her and all the while angle his wrist between her legs to greatest effect.

Eskel’s long fingers spread her folds and circle to gather the moisture there before changing direction to flicker teasingly over her clit. His fingers don’t linger there, however, moving away again to allow his thumb space to firmly rub her outer lips, always a feeling that affects her more than she would expect. Before long one callused finger is pressing gently inside her, while his thumb settles into place next to her clit, not rubbing yet, just pressing. The first finger offers the most dexterity, he searches gently for the most sensitive places inside her as though he hasn’t long since memorized how Triss best likes him to finger her. The action has its desired effect, however, Triss moans into his mouth as the pleasure starts building once again.

If she were on her own Triss probably wouldn’t feel it was worth the effort for a third orgasm, but Eskel so loves drawing them from her and that is half the appeal of the experience as far as she is concerned. She’s no longer in any rush for anything other than getting to see her lover feel good in return for all the pleasure he’s given her.

Triss feels a little limp, not quite wrung out yet, but she isn’t working terribly hard to chase Eskel’s fingers like she chased his tongue earlier. Instead she lets herself lie against her pillows and focus on Eskel’s mouth moving over hers, Eskel’s big hands lighting up all the places she wants his touch, both inside herself and out. She notes the way Eskel has been reminded that he will get to take his pleasure tonight and the wriggle of his hips against her leg has become far more pointed, like he can’t simply ignore his own need any longer.

With Eskel’s talented fingers playing her masterfully, Triss feels like a forge fire, a slow melting heat building in her belly that fills the rest of her body. With careful attention she is sure she could stay in this state for hours, like the flames won’t devour her so long as Eskel doesn’t stop what he is doing. He seems to be doing his best to give her what she wants and what feels best, but the third orgasm will not be quick which is fine by her. It gives her more time to pay attention to Eskel.

It will take a little finesse to make things work out how she wants them, Triss knows. Eskel denies himself his own orgasm quite enough, Triss almost never sees the point in playing those particular games with him, once he’s in her she wants him to feel good and not have to spare too much attention for giving her the third orgasm she has required from him. However, she is impatient to have him fucking her face to face so she can hold him and pet him and tell him how good he is to her. As good as it is having him lie across her while his fingers stroke and thrust, she would like to cage him in with her arms and legs, let him feel held and wanted for his own sake, not just the sake of what he can do for her.

Doing her best to give Eskel all the affection he can stand from where they are now, Triss begins a quiet litany of praise against his lips, her dear one, her good man, her sweetheart. In no time at all, Eskel is shuddering under her ministrations, the precise motions of his fingers becoming rapidly sloppier and more frantic. As much as he gets off on making her feel good, Triss feels the same about him in her own way. She gets a lot out of being able to convince Eskel of his own value, and when he lets her take care of him like this she can get him to understand a little bit of what she sees in him, and that is the most intoxicating thing to her.

With the two of them pressing one another’s buttons like this, Triss decides she is ready for his cock sooner than she would have expected, but she’s certainly not about to question it. She reaches down to tug at the wrist of the hand between her legs.

“Now, Eskel, I want you now,” her voice is urgent in a way she didn’t plan. “Come here, my dear.”

Eskel is beyond words now, he whines high and long and wriggles up the bed, only quieting when Triss grabs his prick to position him at her entrance. Her legs cross at the ankles behind his back and he sinks slowly into her, panting into her mouth where they are no longer so much kissing as refusing to let their lips separate. He’s big, but after two orgasms, not to mention the whole evening of foreplay, there is no discomfort at all, just the glorious fullness that Triss always forgets she loves until she has him again.

Three breaths pass while Eskel lets himself come down from the edge a little bit, then he brings his hand down between them to find her clit once again and he begins to move. The slide and thrust of him hot inside her is only _almost_ better than the way he lets his face slide along hers, pressing kisses all the way down to her jaw until he can tuck his face in where her neck meets her shoulder. Triss wraps her arms around his shoulders to hold him there and closes her eyes to better feel the way he lets his mouth smear vaguely across her skin while he breathes her in.

The whole evening coalesces to a head for Triss then, Eskel moving against and within her, his fingers flickering over her clit, and the way he nuzzles against her, hiding his face while safe in the knowledge that she will face outward in his stead for a while. The wave crests and breaks over her and vaguely she is aware of a little punched out moan from herself and a matching one from Eskel as she comes on his cock, just like she said.

Everything is a little underwater for Triss for a while, then. She can feel Eskel clutching at her, rolling his hips in slow, deep thrusts as he finally lets go and barrels full-speed towards his own orgasm. He buries his face even more forcefully against her shoulder, warm breath panting over her skin and raising goosebumps while his movement stutters, giving away how close he is. The motion of him draws Triss’ aftershocks out and out until she is sure she has no more to go and he finally comes to a halt, pulsing inside her as he comes with a low moan.

Triss relaxes down from the gorgeous tension of her orgasm while Eskel is still quaking against her, lost to sensation and she marshals her attention to be ready for when he returns to awareness. It takes a while, the long delay meaning the force of his release is greater. Even once his muscles unlock he is not quite unconscious, but very out of it, resting much of his bodyweight on her and twitching occasionally, not even pulling out of her yet. Triss strokes his back and hair, crooning soothing nonsense sounds at him, letting her heartbeat slow and feeling his do the same.

Finally Eskel comes back to her enough to adjust the position of his head so he can breathe a little easier, and nuzzles the skin behind her ear, smelling her where the warmth of the blood vessels mean the scent is clean. She’s never managed to get him to explain what she smells like that he loves so much, but clearly he finds it comforting or familiar or something, because the instinct is strong.

After cuddling for a little longer Eskel shifts to warn her he’s about to move, leans up, shakes himself in an enormously wolfish manner, and drops himself back down to Triss’ side. She rolls far enough that she can curl the fingers of one hand around his chin, and swipe a thumb over his scarred cheekbone. Eskel blinks hazily at her and smiles even as she pulls away. He knows she’ll be back as soon as she takes a damp cloth to herself, and sure enough she clambers back up on the bed a bare two minutes after leaving it, and gives the cloth a cursory swipe over the cock now lying soft against his thigh.

“Hands?” Triss asks, and Eskel reaches his arms towards her. A clean corner of the cloth is used the evidence of herself off his fingers, and, satisfied that they will survive until they can bathe properly, pitches the cloth in the direction of the washbasin with just enough of a suggestion to the currents of air in the room to make sure it gets all the way there. A cup of water and some dried fruit and nuts are within reaching distance for later, and then Triss accepts the urging of Eskel’s long arms and drapes herself to lie along his body.

They are pressed together from knee to shoulder, bare skin to bare skin and cooling rapidly despite the hot embers in the hearth. Triss pillows her head on one massive shoulder, and Eskel winds his arms around her back to hold her even closer to him while his face returns to the favoured location in the side of her neck. She relaxes down comfortably on top of him, knowing that the weight and heat of her is at least as much what he needs as the skin contact and smell of her.

It’s tempting to fall asleep where she lies, Eskel’s chest rising and falling slowly beneath her, but Triss isn’t about to check out until she knows he’s doing alright after submitting to her the way he just did. For a long while Eskel just breathes and holds her, letting himself cuddle and bask in the afterglow while Triss hums at him, the closest thing to purring she can manage.

When he drops it’s initially very subtle, his arms twitch to squeeze her still tighter, and when Triss pays attention she notices wetness on her shoulder where he hides his eyes against her. Eskel does nothing so obvious as sob, but his breathing speeds up a little and hitches once or twice. She brings no attention to the emotions he is releasing, she just keeps crooning down at him, little wordless noises. She doesn’t even move to stroke his hair until his subtle shakes stop. Witchers like him are taught that loss in emotional control is to be avoided, but catharsis is important and this is one of the places he finds it, and she will fight tooth and nail to make sure he gets to keep it, and moreover she will give this space to him in the way he needs to receive it, with no comment.

Triss lets many more long minutes pass before she tries to pull away long enough to get a look at his face, and he allows it. His face no longer holds the hazy delight he had in the midst of their activities, but neither does he carry the ironed-in frown lines he began the night with. He looks a little wrung out, honestly, which she is not surprised by, but it strikes her as the kind of tiredness that primarily could be remedied by a good sleep.

Triss leans down to stroke Eskel’s face and press a few gentle kisses to his scars before wending her fingers through his hair to keep contact while she shifts to reach for the water. A drink and a few handfuls of nuts later, Triss lets him lean against her hip where she sits up.

“Are you back with me, my dear?” She pitches her voice low, no point straining his ears, and goes back to petting him.

“Mhm,” Eskel rumbles, no longer hiding his face, which pleases her. “Not ready to leave yet, but I think I’m all here.”

“I was rather hoping you’d sleep here anyway, so that suits me fine. I won’t send you right back into the wolf den, have no fear.”

Eskel smiles weakly at that, and Triss leans forward far enough to catch hold of the sheet from its place turned down at the end of her bed. With Eskel to hold her she won’t need the heavy coverlet for an hour or two, and he’s a light sleeper by training anyway, so she expects he’ll grab it in a burst of wakefulness later.

Both of them are fading rapidly into sleepiness now, so Triss goes when Eskel tugs her down into his arms once more, and kisses her gently.

“Thank you,” he mumbles against her lips. “You always give me this when I need the rest.”

Triss presses her forehead against his, fondness swelling behind her ribs, and says, “Oh Eskel, of course. It is no burden to me.”

He drops off into sleep very shortly thereafter, and Triss lies in the quiet, thoughtful space before sleep, and feels no need to amend her statement. She can’t and won’t take his responsibilities away from him to carry as her own, but she can hold open this time and place for him to lay his burden down for a little while, long enough to rest and heal the places the load he bears leaves damage. And it truly is no hardship to form that protective barrier, any inconvenience is more than worth it to see the soft centre parts of a man who is more kind than the world has ever allowed him to be.

Triss slips into sleep, warm, comfortable, and soft in the knowledge that in the morning she will get a little more time to hold and be held.

**Author's Note:**

> I am [childoffantasy](https://childoffantasy.tumblr.com) on tumblr, come talk to me about Trisskel


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